Disclaimer- I DO NOT OWN FAIRLY ODDPARENT or any song, band, places, objects, or movies mentioned and I make no money by adding them to my story.

Song List:
You Gonna Be – by – Des'ree

Zombie Nation

Chapter 6
You Gotta Be

I awoke to several loud explosions. For a second, I panicked. Looking around, I found that Timmy was no longer lying next to me. A scan of the small bedroom showed that our bags were still here. Were we under attack? Should I stay here out of the way?

Everything fell silent. I strained my ears, listening to the world around me. I heard talking. It didn't sound like Timmy. Maybe what's his name, ugh why can't I remember? Damn sleep fog. Seems like I've been sleeping a lot lately.

With a groan I forced myself to move my feet to the floor. Several more explosions rang out, only now I could tell they were gun shots. Didn't sound like it was the hurried shots that came when Timmy was fending off the undead. Thinking back to our near escape earlier, I hope he wasn't fighting off those monsters after they somehow tracked us down.

I quietly made my way up the hallway. As I rounded the corner, I saw Timmy and our host standing by a firing range. How did I miss that when we first got here? I watched as Timmy reloaded his revolver before taking stance pointing down the range. Six loud shots rang out as he emptied the gun. Leaning my head, I could see he put all six rounds into the head of the paper target.

"It's so smooth and not one jam. Thank you, Mark." Timmy spoke to our host. I mentally thanked Timmy for reminding me of our new friends' name.

"No problemundo me amigo." He took a second to point at the cylinder of the bright colored revolver. "When they coated it, they left a small drip burr that kept getting caught. I just filed it down and oiled it up. Now it slides like a heated blade through solidified cream."

Timmy looked confused for a second, then he held up his free hand, fingers loosely curled except for his pointer finger, which was aimed at our host. "Don't you mean a hot knife through butter?"

"Same thing." Mark shrugged. I moved from my hiding spot so I could be seen and cleared my throat. Mark moved to stand just in front of Timmy as he addressed me. "There she is!"

"Hey Tootie." Timmy waved at me as he reloaded his revolver once again. Once he was finished, he slid the gun back into its holster. He then turned back to our host. "What about my shotgun? Did you get it all cleaned up too?"

"Chyeah." Mark moved behind the counter and pulled out Timmy's monster of a gun. "Thing was a nightmare to take apart. But with a little spit and polish, she's squeaky clean."

Timmy whistled when he saw the shotgun. He looked at it from a few angles, then slide the pump handle several times, clearly examining and admiring Mark's work. "You did a great job my friend. I see you even put a rubber grip on the front handle. Nice. Thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet, Turner." He leaned against the counter. "We still haven't discussed my fee."

"How much is your fee?" Timmy pulled a wallet out of his right front pocket. "I think I got five hundred in cash on me that was in my go bag."

"I don't take currency." If I had a mirror, I'm sure my expression would match the confusion on Timmy's face. "I deal in trade."

"Ok, we don't have much but I'm sure we can find something that'll be worth the work." He pointed past me, and I know he was signaling towards our bags.

I was about to go get the bags when Mark responded while waving his hand. "I don't want your food or knickknacks."

Timmy let out an exasperated sighed. "Then what do you want?"

"I need seven full cylinders of helium, a case of Redbull, and six-point three pound of bubble gum. Not an ounce more or less. However, it has to be double bubble or hubba bubba max original flavor." Mark counted them off on each finger, ending by pointing one at Timmy. "Do NOT get me that watermelon flavored crap."

Timmy's head tilted, clearly as confused as I was. "Why do you need six-point three pounds of gum?"

Mark's eyes sauntered left and right. "Uh, reasons."

"And where the hell do expect me to find all that?" Timmy retorted.

Mark pulled out a map and spread it out over the counter. It looked like it was of his junk yard and the surrounding area. "There's a supermarket and party supply store nearby. Both are located in a strip mall five miles to the northeast of our current location."

"Say I do this, I'm gonna have to take the truck so I can transport the cylinders alone." Mark simply nodded along. "And I'm gonna need to take my guns with me for defense, because there are sure to be zombies."

Mark butted in at that point. "That's fine, but I'm keeping your lady friend and supply bag as collateral until you return with the requested items."

Timmy continued on. "And I'll need enough ammo to deal with said zombies cause I'm running low."

"And you got it. I factored it in with my cost." Our host then leaned across the counter with a hand extended. "We got a deal?"

Timmy stared at his hand, mulling it over, before finally grabbing his hand and giving it a quick shake. "Deal."

"Excellent!" Mark shouted loudly in excitement.

The idea of staying here alone with this weirdo while Timmy risked his life had me concerned. "Wait, don't I get a say in this?"

Timmy turned to me, and in a very matter of fact tone, replied. "No."

"That's bull snot!" I felt my foot hit the ground. Hadn't even realized I had raised it to stomp.

"Look." Timmy took my shoulder and led me back to the hallway. "I need you to stay here, where it's safe. I'll be able to move faster and quieter alone."

"But-" A finger was pressed to my lips, silencing me again.

"I'll be back before you know it." He then walked past me to the bedroom without another word.

"Breakfast?" Mark came around a corner, that I hadn't even seen him disappear behind, holding a plate of food.

It was loaded with scrambled eggs, a heaping pile of bacon, and several muffins. All of it was still steaming, and my stomach rumbled. I haven't been hungry since our near escape from the burning house.

My eyes followed as he set the plate down on a table in a sitting area. First thing I grabbed was the muffin with a glaze on top. My taste buds quickly told me it was lemon blueberry, and it was delicious. All of it was good. Canned food and MREs just couldn't compare to a freshly cooked meal.

I leaned back in my chair just as Timmy was coming back into the main room. Something was different about Timmy though. He had changed clothes. The flannel shirt was gone, as were the blue jeans. Now he was wearing brown and green camouflage top to bottom, including matching beanie cap. The most surprising of features though was the paint on his face that looked like he had dipped his face in mud. I'm pretty sure if I was looking for Timmy in the wilderness in this getup, I would never find him.

He had his two guns, and what was the food bag hanging on his hip, though it looked empty. Mark handed him four boxes of ammunition. Only one box was different amongst them. Guessing that was for his revolver. He put all the boxes straight into his bag. If I had to guess, he loaded them full before coming out.

"Ok Mark, I'll go get those items for you." Timmy then nodded his head towards me. "Take care of her while I'm out."

Mark waved his hand in a dismissive manor as Timmy walked out the door. "Don't worry about your mate, dude."

"She's not my-" Timmy started but for Mark cut him off.

"You're burning daylight." A grin appeared on our hosts' face.

"Yeah, yeah." Timmy simply replied. Then, his eyes fell on me. There was something behind them, worry perhaps. I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment of the attention I was getting from him. He heaved a heavy sigh before starting to head to the exit. "I'll be back soon. Hurt her and you'll pay for it with your life."

Mark seemed unphased by the treat as he gave a flirty hand wave to Timmy, who shortly walked out the door. With Timmy gone, Mark grabbed a cup of coffee, black like how Timmy drinks it, and sat at the table with me. I could feel him watching me. His eyes bore holes into the side of my face as I nibbled on some bacon. "So, Tootie, huh, that's an odd name. Is that short for anything?"

His question took me a little at surprise, but it wasn't one I haven't heard before. "Actually no. My parents named me Tootie because it means gift of God and happiness."

Just like that, it hit me. I hadn't thought of my parents or school for the first time in a week. My heart ached with that all too familiar pain again. In my mind flashed the horrors I witnessed at school. Then the dreadful drive home, and worst of all, my parents, dead.

After several seconds in my own head, I realized I had been silent for a while. I turned my gaze back to Mark, and he sat there, as quiet as I just was. He tiled his head and his lips scrunched to one side, like he was puzzled. "You back?"

"I'm sorry." I apologized immediately on reflex. "Something popped into my head."

"No worries." He took another sip of his coffee, cleared his throat, and proceeded ahead with what I assume was a question he just asked while I was lost in thought or a new question based on my actions. "So, what's the deal with you and Turner?"

I was kind of taken aback by this question. "Excuse me?"

He got up and started walking towards me, then picked up the now empty plate before walking passed, all while still asking the thought on his mind. "Like, are you guys dating or are you like a pet to him or what?"

"No, no, nothing like that." I could feel my cheeks growing warm of the embarrassment of what he had just asked. "He and I only just met about a week ago."

"Doesn't mean he's not just keeping you around for sex." He called out as he disappeared behind a wall to another room.

My mouth fell open as a huff of disbelief escaped my lips. "Timmy is not that kind of guy."

"How do you know?" He called from the other room over the clattering of dishes. "You said it yourself. You've barely known him a week."

"And he's been nothing but a gentleman. Nice, caring, and protective this whole time. He's even saved my life a few times now." I found myself defending Timmy so quickly, that I was surprised at myself. What was it about him that I felt I needed to protect his image.

"Ok," Mark started as he came back into view. "So, if you not satisfying his manly urges in exchange for protection, what are you doing for him to keep you around?"

I thought about it for a second. Honestly, I took a guess at the only thing I could think of. "I give him someone to talk to so he's not lonely."

"Laaaaame." Mark rolled his eyes as he stretched the word out and plopped into the chair across from me.

His attitude and accusations were started to make me angry. Before I knew it, I was spinning off in a rant. "I don't know what you want from me Mark. I'm not sleeping with him in the physical sense. I'm not even helpful to him in the slightest except carrying some of the weight of our stuff. God's honest true is I've been useless. He finds our food, our shelter, does the cooking and the fighting. The only thing I do is hide and slow him down. I feel horrible being such a burden all the time, but I'm still coming to grasps with the fact that there are flesh eating monster roaming our streets while dealing with the death of my parents. And every turn we make things just seem to keep getting worse. I wish I had the means or knowledge to be of use to him, but he's been trained for this, I'm just a catholic school girl who's no use whatsoever."

When the words finally stopped flowing from my mouth, I felt like crying again, but I held it back. I wasn't going to cry in front of this man. Not with the way he was watching me.

"Hmmm," Mark knitted his hands together with pointer fingers out and raised them to his lips. After tapping them a few times, he lowered them. "What if you weren't such a burden? Would you feel better about yourself then?"

I sat there, dumbfounded, just blinking at him a few times. "What?"

"Follow me." He declared while raising from his chair and heading back to the shop area.

000

"Steady, steady." Mark tried to encourage me in almost a whisper.

I tried to block him out. My arm was sore but I was now determined to hit this target. We had been working on improving my aim for a couple hours now. The string biting at my fingers was helping me focus. I took a breath in, and while exhaling, released the arrow. It tore through the air and imbedded the tip into the wooden targets head.

"I did it!" I exclaimed a little breathy, my cheeks pulling into a smile.

"Radical, and right between the eyes. It don't get much better than that." Mark beamed at me, a little proud at the progress I had made under his instruction. He walked over to the target and retrieved the arrow. "Now, this time pull the string as far back as you can before releasing it. You have to get used to the full power of the bow."

The door crashed open and a man burst through. I turned the bow towards him before realizing I wasn't armed. He looked awful. He clothes had several tears, and he was almost covered in blood. For a second, I thought he was a zombie, until the man looked at me in mild confusion. "Tootie, what are you doing with that bow?"

That's when it clicked. This wasn't a stranger but in fact Timmy. He slumped to the ground and I rushed over. "Timmy, are you ok? Where are you injured?"

"I'm ok." He said a few times as I worried over him. That's when he saw Mark and became angry. "What the hell were those things, Mark?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, like way uncool, what was what?" Mark looked around confused.

Timmy took off the beanie. "Those zombie at the market where you had me go for your helium. They weren't normal. Everywhere I hid they found me. It's like they were hunting ME."

Dread flooded upon hearing this and seeing all the blood on him. Was any of it his? I started pulling at his sleeves, trying to get his jacket off. "Did they bite you? Is any of this your blood?"

"Tootie, stop, I'm fine." He insisted trying to brush my arms away.

I stopped trying to force the jacket off him but didn't let go as Mark spoke up. "Look man, I don't know what was down there, ok? How did you get away from them anyways if they were hunting you?"

Timmy gestured with his hands. "By covering myself in zombie blood. Apparently, once my exposed skin had some on me, they lost my scent. I covered my clothes for good measure."

Hearing this, I wasn't going to risk him getting infected by any blood getting into a cut. This time I tugged at Timmy's arm hard. "Shower, now."

He sighed quite audibly but followed nonetheless. We reached the shower and I striped his jacket off from behind, then his shirt. Without thinking my hands went lower and that's when he protested. "I'm can shower myself."

I wasn't having it. "Oh yeah, and who's gonna check your back or hair for any cuts? Hmm?"

Once he was down to his boxers, I practically shoved him into the small space. The warm water kicked on as I scoured over his back looking for even the tiniest of scratches. Once his hair was clean, being extra careful to rinse backwards and not towards his face, I combed through it like I did his back. He looked over his front during this time. Neither of us found anything. By the time we were done, he was cleaned, and my clothes were soaked. Even still, I was happy. He had survived his encounter without taking a single scratch. It was then it dawned on me, if I had gone with him in the state of mind I was in, neither of us would have made it out alive.